E Nomine
by KafkaExMachina
Summary: AU fourth year. Voldemort discovers what Dumbledore thinks 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' is, and changes his plans accordingly.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: AU Goblet of Fire story. One slight change – When Snape overheard the prophecy, he heard it all the way to 'For he shall have the power the dark lord knows not.' Additionally, Snape believed that he heard the full prophecy, and Voldemort had no reason to believe otherwise. Up to this point, things are no different from cannon.

I'd like thank the denizens of Caer Azkaban for their help, and ubereng for their help with tidying up the story.

* * *

Harry thrashed in his sheets at Number Four Privet Drive, in the throes of a nightmare.

Harry found himself sitting in a chair, looking between Pettigrew and some man he didn't recognize. "Is everything proceeding as planned?" Harry found himself asking in a horrible sibilant whisper.

The man nodded. "It is my Lord."

"Have you found out 'the power the Dark Lord knows not?'" Harry heard himself asking.

"Dumbledore believes it to be love, my Lord." The man said with an expression of disbelief.

Harry internally shuddered as he erupted into hissing laughter. "Leave it to Dumbledore," he said in a horribly amused voice, "to turn love into a weapon."

Harry awoke screaming, his scar burning. Vernon bellowed for Harry to shut the bloody hell up. Harry bit off his screams, and fell back into fitful slumber.

* * *

"Now we shall learn who our champions are!" Dumbledore said theatrically as the Goblet of Fire flared with gouts of multi-colored flames. The students in attendance, Harry included, all cheered as the three students' names were called. Even Hermione seemed to be caught up in the excitement, as she only scowled a little when Ron fell all over himself applauding as Fleur Delacour strode gracefully towards the Champion's Room.

"Well, now that we have our champions, let the feast-" Dumbledore's proclamation was cut off by a great blast of flames from the Goblet. The hall fell silent as a fourth slip of paper floated neatly into the Headmaster's hand.

Albus' features grew stern as he read the slip of paper. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"


	2. Ron Weasley and the Goblet of Fire

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: A warning - this story, while not nearly as 'just plain wrong' as Rewritten, is still quite a bit darker than my other works. Also, changed the ending a bit.

* * *

"Now we shall learn who our champions are!" Dumbledore said theatrically as the Goblet of Fire flared with gouts of multi-colored flames. The students in attendance, Harry included, all cheered as the three students' names were called. Even Hermione seemed to be caught up in the excitement, as she only scowled a little when Ron fell all over himself applauding as Fleur Delacour strode gracefully towards the Champion's Room.

"Well, now that we have our champions, let the feast-" Dumbledore's proclamation was cut off by a great blast of flames from the Goblet. The hall fell silent as a fourth slip of paper floated neatly into the Headmaster's hand.

Albus' features grew stern as he read the slip of paper. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

Hermione's horrified gasp was the only sound heard as every eye moved towards the Gryffindor table. Ron sat still, mouth open in stupefaction. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Dumbledore called again.

Ron blinked a few times before he began smiling. 'All right!' Ron thought happily. 'I don't know how they did it, but Fred and George really came through for me this time! Now's my chance at fame and a thousand galleons!' Ron stood up before Dumbledore could call his name a third time. Hermione's hand lashed out and grabbed Ron's sleeve.

"Ron!" She hissed angrily, "what are you thinking! How did you put your name in the goblet?"

Ron grinned. "Doesn't matter, does it? You're just upset you didn't manage to do it and I did!"

Hermione sputtered in protest. "Ron," she hissed, "people have died in this tournament!"

Ron ripped his sleeve out of her grasp and strode proudly towards the Champions Room, leaving his two friends staring at his back in shocked horror. Before he could approach the doorway, Dumbledore intercepted him.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore asked gravely, "did you put your name in the Goblet?"

Ron looked anywhere but Dumbledore's eyes. He knew he couldn't lie to him, but if he told the truth the Headmaster might not let him compete. "Doesn't matter, does it?" Ron said slyly. "I mean, my name came out and all, so I'm a champion."

Dumbledore shook his head in disappointment but accompanied the boy inside the room. The occupants were in an uproar at the appearance of a fourth champion.

"Zat 'ee not right! 'ow can zis be 'appening, 'ee's just a boy!" Madam Maxime said in outrage. Ron scowled at the 'just a boy' comment. Karkaroff was similarly displeased. "Albus, vat haff you done! You cannot haff two champions!" The Bulgarian headmaster rumbled.

Ron looked around for support. He noticed Snape sneering down at him in utter contempt, and Moody looking at him appraisingly. "What's the problem?" Ron asked. "I'm a champion, just like the rest of you!"

Snape took the moment to interject his opinions. "Albus, you can't possibly believe that the boy managed to circumvent your protections!' Severus scowled. "Perhaps if it were Potter I'd almost believe it, but Mr. Weasley?" He scoffed derisively. "The incompetent buffoon barely has the cognitive ability to masticate, let alone overcome the most simplistic of wards!" He moved forward and hovered menacingly over Ron. "Tell me, boy," Snape demanded, his fetid breath nearly overwhelming the red-headed Gryffindor, "who put your name in the goblet? Your brothers, perhaps?"

Ron's answer was cut off by Moody's interjection. "Lay off the lad, Severus. What's important is how did somebody enter his name in, and why?"

Snape snorted. "I haven't the foggiest idea who would waste their time and energy on the delinquent. I'd suggest he paid off a seventh year student, but we all know that his family is simply too poor."

Ron reddened and almost started screaming before Crouch's voice cut through the general murmurs of discontent.

"Enough!" Crouch turned towards Ron. "I don't care how he did it, but the boy was named champion." He looked down thoughtfully. "Still, his brother Perky is a descent sort," Crouch muttered softly before looking up at Ron. "This is a very challenging competition, and there's a very good chance that you could get hurt or even killed. Do you still wish to compete?"

Ron looked around the room. Viktor Krum and the Bulgarian Headmaster glowed at him. He saw a mixture of pity and anger from the Beauxbatons pair. Dumbledore's face expressed equal measures of grave concern and disappointment. He saw Moody sizing him up, appraising him, perhaps with a bit of pride. Snape sneered down at him in utter contempt.

His mind made up, Ron turned towards Crouch with an expression of pride on his face. "Yes, I do."

The room erupted in shouting. "Silence!" Crouch commanded again. The room fell silent as Crouch stared at Ron, who managed to meet Crouch's eyes without flinching. "Whether he put his name in or not, or how he did it, is no matter. The Goblet named him a champion, and he wishes to compete, and so he shall!"

Ron beamed, ignoring the rest of the conversation.

* * *

Ron walked triumphantly back to the Gryffindor table. He frowned as his classmates didn't cheer him, or shower him with accolades. Instead, they glowered at him in angry silence. He started to get a bit upset as he plopped down next to Harry and began shoveling food onto his plate.

"So," Harry said hesitantly, "are you going to compete?"

"Yup!" Ron said happily before stuffing his face with food.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted angrily. "You can't! People have died!" She said, starting to get a bit hysterical.

"You don't think I can do it," Ron accused while glowering at her. "You don't think I'm good enough, do you?"

"Ron, that's not it at all!" Hermione said in frustration.

"No, I think that's exactly it!" Ron glared at Hermione. "I bet you wouldn't be this way if Harry's name popped out of the cup!"

"Hey, leave me out of it!" Harry said loudly. Ron looked a bit ashamed of his outburst. Harry looked to his friend in concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but a pair of identical red-heads interrupted.

"Wow! It appears that…"

"Our ickle Ronnie-kins managed to pull off something…"

"That even the great Gred and Forge couldn't!" The twins finished simultaneously.

Ron puffed in pride for a moment before the reality of what they said sank in. "Wait… you mean to tell me that you guys didn't put my name in?"

"Ron, Ron, Ron. If we could, do you really think that we would have put your name in instead of our own?" George asked.

"Really. We want the money for ourselves, and frankly you've never been one to share." Fred said flatly.

Ron scowled. "Whatever. Don't come begging me for money then, when I'm the champion!"

Harry looked at his best mate in concern. "Ron, you didn't put your name in the cup, did you?"

Ron shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said in-between bites. "I'm in."

"But Ron, if you didn't put your name in, and your brothers didn't, then who did?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Who cares!" Ron replied happily. "I've got a shot at winning now!"

"What I don't get is why." Harry said softly. "I mean, I could understand if my name popped out, somebody's tried to kill me about every year, but…"

"This isn't about you!" Ron said angrily. "Don't make this about you! You're just jealous that I'm a champion, and you aren't! Well, I don't need you," Ron spat while glaring at Harry, "or you!" He glowered at Hermione. "I've finally got a chance to do something great on my own, and I'm not going to let anybody stop me!" Ron pointedly returned to eating, ignoring his best friends. After dinner finished, he stormed off towards the Gryffindor Tower, refusing to speak to either of them.

After Ron noisily stomped into his dorm room, Hermione motioned for Harry to join her on a couch in front of the common room fireplace. They sat down together.

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, bottom lip trembling, "I'm just so worried about him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, so am I. Ron's got a point, though. We need to support him." He shrugged guiltily. "I mean, he's always wanted something like this, and he is our best mate."

"But…" Hermione said worriedly.

"No buts about it." Harry said firmly. "He's made up his mind, and he's going to compete. I understand where he's coming from."

Hermione glowered at Harry. "So, that's that? You aren't worried at all about how much danger he's in?" She started to get hysterical. "Harry, he could die!"

Harry grinned a little bit at Hermione's panic. "He'll be fine," Harry said. "It's not like Dumbledore is going to let anything happen to him."

Hermione worried her bottom lip. "Are you sure," she asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure." He grinned. "Now, if my name came out of that cup, I wouldn't be so sure…"

Hermione grinned. "You egotistical prat!" She said, swatting his arm playfully.

"Hey, I'm just saying!" Harry said defensively. He became pensive. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm not worried, but he really wants this. We've got to stand behind him, he is our best friend."

Hermione nodded. "I guess your right," she said softly. "Still, he'd better start preparing. It's not like this is a game of quidditch, he could really get hurt."

"I dunno," Harry replied teasingly. "I mean, I've gotten pretty banged up playing quidditch."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "I know," she said with her voice barely above a whisper. She gazed at Harry, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm really scared for him."

"Me too," Harry said gently.

* * *

The following weeks weren't easy on Ronald Weasley. With the exception of Harry and Hermione, the entire school shunned him making is already untamed temper positively explosive. Snape and the Slytherin students took an exceptional amount of glee prodding the temperamental Gryffindor, and the resulting eruptions landed him in near constant detentions. Hermione was grateful that the House Cup wasn't an issue, or McGonagall's point deductions alone would have been enough to put the Gryffindor house in the negatives.

Things only got worse when Molly heard the news. The Howler she sent her youngest son was epic in both acerbity and volume. Even the Twins agreed that nothing they'd done ever provoked quite the same reaction. The article published by Rita Skeeter only fanned the flames of Ron's jealousy. He'd eaten up her flattery, and waxed rhapsodic about his talents and role helping Harry Potter out of a tight spot. When he read the article, which focused almost entirely on how he was Harry Potter's friend and contained more than a few disparaging comments about his abilities, the aggravation he felt towards Harry detonated into a shit-storm of epic proportions.

"It's always about you!" Ron screamed at his best friend. "Well, I don't need your help and I don't need your friendship! I'm going to make history on my own!"

Hermione was torn between her friends. She saw the pained expression on Harry's face, but she knew that Ron needed all the support he could give. Harry noticed her dilemma, and gave her a tiny smile. "Go. He needs you, more than ever now I guess." He shook his head at Hermione's unspoken question. "Really, I'll be alright. It'll blow over and we'll be best mates again."

Hermione nodded, and rushed off to support her friend.

* * *

The final straw came when Ron accidentally revealed that his brother Charlie told him about the first task during an argument with Hermione in an unused classroom.

She stared at him in shock. "Ron," she hissed, "that's cheating!"

"So?" Ron asked, unconcerned.

"You have to tell Cedric!" She said. "It's not fair otherwise."

Ron glowered at Hermione. "Oh, I get it. You'll break all sorts of rules for Harry, but not me, huh? Isn't that what it's all about? You don't want me to win, you are too damn worried about your precious goody-two-shoes bullshit!"

Hermione gasped and winced. "Ron! That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Whatever." Ron said dismissively. "You know what? I already know how I'm going to win, and I'm not going to tell you. Go on, tell Cedric all about the dragons! I don't need your lectures, I don't need your rules, I don't need your help and I DON'T NEED YOU!"

Hermione fled, bawling. Ron punched the wall, cursing.

* * *

Harry's face fell when Hermione ran into the common room sobbing. "Hermione!" He called, trying to stop her before she made it to the girls' dormitory. "What happened?"

"Oh Harry it was just awful… he was just awful…" She clutched onto Harry and sobbed into his shoulder. Harry hesitantly patted her back, not sure what to do. Finally, she calmed down enough to tell him about the argument.

"Shit," Harry said sadly. There really wasn't much else to say.

* * *

After classes the next day, Ron was nowhere to be found. Hermione hid in the Library until just before curfew. Harry sat in the common room, staring at the fire. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, wanting to do the right thing, but not sure what it was. The first task was in two days, so he had to make a choice and make it soon.

Finally, he stood.

* * *

"So," Hermione said hesitantly as she and Harry walked to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hmm?" Harry asked.

Hermione worried her bottom lip. "Did you…" She trailed off.

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, "I told Cedric."

Hermione smiled up at her best friend. "Oh. I'm a bit surprised, I guess."

"Why?" Harry asked, a little offended.

"Well, you have a crush on Cho Chang, that's all." Hermione said playfully.

Harry blushed. "Hey! How did you know about that?"

"Honestly Harry, you weren't exactly subtle with your staring." Hermione chided lightly.

Harry shrugged. "Okay, okay. So I've got a crush. What's that got to do with anything?"

"You didn't know?" Hermione asked while looking at Harry in surprise.

"Know what?" Harry said. "Why am I always the last to know anything?" He grumbled good-naturedly.

"Cho and Cedric are… well, Parvati and Lavender said that they were pretty much an item." Hermione said.

Harry slapped his forehead. "Oh, NOW you tell me!" He said in mock anger. His shoulders slumped once he realized that he really didn't hold a candle to the friendly seventh-year Hufflepuff.

Hermione placed her hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry Harry," she said as they entered the Great Hall. She looked despondently at Ron, who was furiously attacking his food. Ron looked up, noticed Hermione's hand on Harry's shoulder, and glared furiously at the pair. Hermione looked down at the floor. "I know how you feel," she said softly.

Harry looked at her sadly. "What a way to start the morning," he muttered sadly. Hermione couldn't help but agree.

Ron stormed out of the Great Hall when Harry and Hermione tried to sit near him.

* * *

The day of the first task arrived, and Harry found himself in the bleachers next to Hermione. He felt as scared as she looked; her eyes were wide enough that you could see the whites all the way around her irises and her face was paler than Snape's. She clutched Harry's hand painfully when the dragon handlers brought out the first dragon. Her grip didn't let up as Cedric barely managed to avoid getting roasted, Fleur almost became kibble, and Krum nearly died at the claws of an enraged dragon.

Hermione whimpered when Ron's name was called, and Harry found himself holding his breath. Ron emerged, looking supremely confident, perhaps even a little smug. Harry thought the bones in his hands were going to break as his best mate walked calmly towards the furious Hungarian Horntail.

Ron pointed his wand at a nearby boulder and incanted "_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_!" The boulder floated gently into the air, then meandered towards the dragon. It reared back in anger, but Ron sent the boulder hovering near the beast's maw.

A collective gasp of awe erupted from the crowd as every time the dragon tried to move its head, the boulder softly nudged up against its nose, blocking its fiery breath. The dragon tried to swat the offending object away, but Ron held it steadily near the dragon's face. It ignored Ron as he walked slowly towards the nest, focusing its rage on the boulder.

"I taught him that spell!" Hermione shrieked in glee and she bounced up and down excitedly, "I taught him that spell!"

Harry grinned, amazed and filled with pride at his best friend's success.

Ron's attention slipped for a half-second when he reached for the golden egg, but it was enough. With an enraged roar the dragon noticed the intruder and like lightning clamped its jaws about Ron.

Hermione screamed in horror as the creature shook its head wildly, spraying blood across the field. Before the handlers could subdue the beast, it snapped its jaws three more times with a sickening crunches and gouts of blood and gore. Twenty jets of red light dropped the beast, and Ron's mangled corpse slipped out of the dragon's maw and splattered messily on the ground.


	3. Willows in the Storm

Disclaimer: Not mine, never was.

* * *

Ron's funeral was a solemn affair, filled with Molly's heart-rending wails and the stoic tears of the Weasley males. Charlie quickly descended into despair, drowning his guilt and anguish with Ogden's. Still, life must go on, and after a few days of grieving classes resumed as normal. Those students who didn't really know him quickly recovered, and used the prospect of the Yule Ball to forget the tragic death.

Harry and Hermione, on the other hand, weren't so quick to recover.

…

Harry noticed that Hermione was getting lost and ignored by the rest of the Hogwarts students, and stepped in to help ease her grief. For a week, the Gryffindor Tower was silent, as those who were friends with Ron mourned his passing, and those who didn't know him as well stayed silent for fear of reprisals.

Hermione was inconsolable. "I never told him…" She moaned between sobs. "I never told him I fancied him."

Harry didn't know how to handle his own sorrow, much less hers. He sat silently next to her, hoping that his presence was doing some good.

"I knew there was going to be a dance," she said softly. "I wanted him to ask me."

Harry nodded. What could he say?

They sat together until the fire died down into embers, and Hermione shed all the tears that Harry couldn't.

…

In her anguish, Hermione took to aimlessly wandering the halls by herself. Unable to do anything for her, Harry quickly fell into the habit of following behind ensconced in his father's cloak.

He was certain that Dumbledore noticed him, but the Headmaster simply smiled sadly and nodded as he passed.

Hermione's grief and anger hit the boiling point two weeks after Ron's demise. During one of her long trips through the halls, she ran into Draco Malfoy.

He didn't have his two thugs with him, but that didn't stop the blond bastard from taunting her.

"What's wrong, mudblood?" Draco asked in his pompous drawl. "Mourning the loss of your pet Weasel?" He sniffed. "Personally, I feel sorry for the dragon. Can you imagine how horrible the unwashed brat tasted? Why, I'm glad it didn't swallow, or the poor thing might have been poisoned."

Harry threw off his cloak, ready to hex Malfoy into oblivion, but Hermione reacted faster. Screaming like a banshee, she slammed her fist into the shocked Slytherin. Harry gaped as she didn't stop with a single blow, but rather flung herself bodily onto Draco knocking the two of them to the floor. Ignoring the impact, Hermione slammed her fist into Draco's face again and again, screaming in rage.

"Stop this at once!" Snape shouted, flinging the two apart with a flick of his wand. He glanced at Draco, who was unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and you are coming with me right now!" Snape shouted at Hermione.

"But-" Harry tried to interject.

"SILENCE!" Snape commanded. "Take him to Madam Pomfrey this instant! I will deal with Ms. Granger!"

Harry glowered at Snape with hatred, but swallowed his acidic reply. He looked towards Hermione. She shook her head sadly. "Go, Harry." She said. "I shouldn't have…"

Snape sneered. "You most certainly should not have." He said imperiously. "Now come with me." He snatched her arm and turned away, leading the girl off.

Harry glared at Draco's unconscious body.

…

Snape forcefully threw Hermione into his office before following and slamming the door behind him.

"Sit!" He commanded, pointing at a chair in front of his desk. Hermione meekly sat, her hands twisting together, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Severus sat down in his chair and deflated. "I should have you expelled." He said sadly. Hermione sniffled and nodded, staring at her lap.

He opened a drawer, pulling out two glasses. He then removed a decanter, and filled both glasses with an amber liquid. He pushed one in front of Hermione. She looked up at him in askance.

"I hated the brat," Snape said morosely. "I won't lie."

Hermione sobbed.

Snape picked up his glass, and considered the liquid inside. "You know, in all the years I've worked here… I've never lost a student." He pondered his words. "I don't intend to lose another."

He looked at Hermione pointedly. "Drink," he commanded.

Hesitantly, Hermione picked up the glass and took a sip. She coughed as the amber liquid burned her throat, but it warmed her stomach.

"Minerva should be the one doing this, not me." Snape said as he took another sip of the liquor. Following his lead, Hermione took another sip, this one not as painful as the last. Snape shook his head. "Don't waste your potential on him," Snape said softly.

"Ron?" Hermione queried in a watery voice.

Snape shook his head sharply. "No. Draco." He sipped his drink again. "The stupid little shite," he muttered.

Hermione took a gulp of her drink in surprise.

"Oh don't look at me like that," Snape spat. "I'm not stupid. I'm certain you'll figure out why I act the way I do soon enough."

Hermione stared at him in surprise.

Snape sighed. "I'll… I'll make sure you aren't expelled. Lucius may fume and bellow, but there's little he can do. I heard what Draco said, and your… emotional state will be taken into account."

Hermione took another swig of her drink, letting it sooth her nerves.

"But… if you knew… why didn't you punish Draco?" She asked.

Snape smirked. "I didn't?"

Hermione looked at him blankly.

"Bloody Gryffindors…" Snape sighed.

Hermione's eyes lit up in comprehension. "So… you mean you knew… when you told Harry to…"

"Do not ever speak of this," Snape commanded, interrupting her line of questioning.

Hermione nodded hesitantly.

"You know I'm going to have to give you detentions for a month, right?" Snape asked. Hermione looked crestfallen, but accepted. "I'll talk to Moody. He'll give you something to work out the anger on." He paused thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would be best if Mr. Potter joined you as well." He sneered. "I'll certainly have enough reason when I see Draco next."

Hermione wasn't sure what to think, or feel. So she sat with Snape silently, and drank the amber liquid in her hand.

…

As promised, Harry and Hermione had a month worth of detentions with Moody. The next day after classes they made their way to the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom and waited. A few minutes later, Alastor Moody clumped into the room. He scowled at the two students, his magical eye focusing oddly on each in turn.

"I hear you two have a bit of a temper problem. How quaint." He glowered at the teens. "I hear you beat the bloody shite out of a Malfoy. **Good**!" Harry and Hermione jumped a bit when he yelled. "I hear you damn near got expelled for it! **Bad**!" He stumped around the room, occasionally pausing to glare balefully at the two.

"I'm not here to help you with your grief," Alastor grumbled. "I'm not here to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright. **Because it isn't**! I'm here to punish you for your stupidity, and I'm here to teach you how to do it right!" He leveled his best glare at Hermione. "Guess what, Hermione? You just made yourself a very dangerous enemy. Lucius Malfoy is more of a snake than You-Know-Who, and despite what his galleons say he **loved every bloody minute**!"

Alastor began pacing again, the clunks of his peg leg acting like some sort of demented metronome for his speech. "You two are very lucky. It appears that even Severus thinks you've got enough potential to keep around. Because if he didn't, you can bet your little arses that you'd be facing the wrong end of Lucius' wand without one of your own. **Constant Vigilance**! Before this month is up, you are going to sweat, bleed and curse! I'm going to run you so bloody ragged that by the end of the night you'll curse your mother's name! I'm going to teach you when to fight, when to run, and above all else **Constant! Unending! Absolute! Vigilance!**"

The grizzled professor appraised his charges. Finding them suitably unnerved, he whipped out his wand and stunned the pair.

"_Enervate_!" Alastor spat, reviving them. "Didn't you listen to a word I said? **Constant Vigilance!** Now let's try that again!"

…

"_Enervate_! **Damn it all to Hell!** The point of the exercise is to get **away from the pretty red light!**

…

While Harry and Hermione were suffering under Alastor's tender mercies, a young red-headed girl made up her mind. With her head held high, she walked straight towards Viktor Krum. The burly Bulgarian glowered down at her.

"You," Ginny said pointedly, "are taking me to the ball."

Viktor cocked his head to the side, staring at the little girl in front of him. "Vat?"

Ginny pointed at Viktor. "You." She pointed at herself. "Me. Ball."

Viktor shook his head. "Vy."

"Because if Ron hadn't…" Ginny swallowed her tears and stood up straighter. "Because there was supposed to be a Weasley during the Champion's Dance and I'll be damned if that doesn't happen!"

Viktor glowered at the young girl. Ginny stared back, determination shining in her eyes. The two held each other's gaze for a time, before Viktor smiled grimly. "Da!"

Ginny sniffled, tears streaming down her face, but she smiled at her date.

…

"Pathetic!" Alastor shouted. He paused, watching as Harry and Hermione barely managed to climb to their feet. "Still, you've got some potential." He clumped over to his desk and pulled out two sheets of parchment. He hurriedly wrote something onto them, then clomped back over and thrust the letters into their hands. "Here are two passes to the Restricted Section of the Library good for the year. If you are going to survive, you need Constant Vigilance! And you need to understand exactly the kind of curses your enemies are flinging your way. You two are going to hunt down the dirtiest, nastiest, most down-right Evil books you can find, and **You! Are! Going! To! Read! Every! Last! Page**! I expect no less than three feet from both of you on the Dark Arts, including no less than ten curses and how to cast them. Also, you two better practice **Constant Vigilance** because I'm going to make your lives a living **Hell** until I think you know enough to survive. **Are we clear?**"

Harry and Hermione mustered up the energy to nod.

"Good. Now get to work then get some sleep, you're going to need it. **Constant Vigilance!**"

Harry and Hermione barely managed to leave the room under their own power. Still, a jolt of adrenaline made Harry's blood turn to ice as he overheard Moody's muttered words.

"Don't know what the old man was thinking, putting that boy's name in the Cup."


	4. Broken Crucible

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Harry wrenched Hermione into an unused classroom, ignoring her grunt of pain as he strained the sore muscles of her arm. "Harry," Hermione spat, "what are you doing?"

Harry grimaced. "Did you hear what he said?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Hear what? Harry, what are you…"

"He put Ron's name in the cup!" Harry spat.

Hermione stiffened.

"Who?" She asked coldly, dangerously.

"Dumbledore."

"What? No! That makes no sense!" Hermione said as she paced the room. "No, he couldn't… wait. No. It does. It makes perfect sense." An edge of hysteria crept into her voice. Harry cocked his head to the side and gestured for her to continue. Hermione didn't notice as she paced back and forth, working things out in her mind. "Of course. Yes." She drew out the last syllable so long that Harry wasn't sure if he was listening in English or Parselsmouth. "That… how could he… **damn** him**.**" Hermione growled. "It's all about inspiration, heroics with him. He beat Grindewald, he's growing his own hero. Here you are, and there was Ron, and yet… oh, of course, yes… Harry is very heroic, but heroic isn't enough, is it? Magic… you are only as strong as what you know, of course. The three of us, yes... heroic, but something was wrong. Something didn't fit." Hermione kept pacing as her half-vocalized thoughts spilled out her lips. "Each year, we were tested, yes… a crucible, forging steel from waste iron, matching potential. The Stone, we all passed. The Chamber of Secrets, yes, we passed, Ron didn't. Sirius, oh Sirius, but… something… oh. Yes. Ron failed. And so that… that… he saw that you weren't falling farther behind, following Ron's path of… of course. But the Patronus… and me… so he decided to play a final test. Do or die. But Ron failed. And now? That **motherfucker!**" Hermione screamed.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Harry interrupted. Her pacing rant was so familiar, her cursing rage so unfamiliar that it was comforting and amusing in a way that didn't reflect the subject. Harry couldn't help but let a little of his odd cheer into his voice. "Mind filling in your non-genius friend?"

Hermione didn't take the bait. She twirled around and stomped up to Harry, grabbing his shoulders with both hands. She growled, taking Harry aback. "Dumbledore," Hermione said, "put Ron's name in the cup because Ron was, for all of his good traits, an ignoramus lacking a single mote of academic ambition. More importantly, Dumbledore thought that you were becoming a lazy arse just like him." Harry blinked at the accusation, but Hermione continued before he could interrupt. "It makes sense now – why would he rely on a bunch of pre-teens to save the school? Why? Because he was, and still is, grooming us to be his soldiers against Voldemort! Every year he tested us, making sure that he was forging what he wanted!"

Harry froze. "And Ron…"

"Failed." Hermione said with grave finality.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed, "I'll fucking kill him!" He started to turn to storm off. Hermione stopped him by shaking his shoulders sharply.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, "Stop!" Harry froze. "Listen to yourself, **think!** What are you going to do, storm off and get your arse handed to you by the only man that Voldemort **fears**? What then? What if you fail? He'll just obliviate you, and me, and we'll be exactly where we used to be. And what if you succeed, will that bring back Ron? No! You'll be sent to Azkaban – nobody will believe you!"

"It's worth it!" Harry growled, trying to shake her grip.

"No!" Hermione sobbed, "Don't do this Harry! Don't you leave me Harry James Potter! Don't you dare leave me too!"

The desperation in her voice poured frigid waters onto Harry's anger. He hissed, the escaping steam of his smothered rage deflating him. Gently, he pulled Hermione close and let her tears wet his shoulder.

Dumbledore would die for this. That Harry swore.

…

Time passed, as it always has. True to his words, Moody kept Harry and Hermione too exhausted to do more than their class work, but their fellow students forgave the pair's reticent behavior. If anybody noticed that the two were walking closer together than ever before or how their hands would naturally drift together, nobody said a word. The fact that the DADA professor would ambush the pair on a semi-regular basis – and occasionally lose – did nothing to encourage rumors about their relationship.

McGonagall was thrilled with Harry's newfound dedication to his coursework, and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a great deal of pride in the boy's ability to focus through the traumatic events. He missed the look of rage that flickered across Harry and Hermione's faces when he told Harry this.

Moody did not.

…

Hermione walked with Harry to the carriages that lead to the Hogwarts Express. Harry was carrying Hedwig's empty cage, the snowy owl perched on his shoulder. Hermione's trunk floated behind the two. A light dusting of snow covered the ground, the December air crisp.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Harry replied. "Look, you need this. Go. Tell your parents how much you love them. I'll be fine."

"But…"

"I'll be fine," Harry reiterated. He noticed that they'd reached the carriages. "You're coming back for the ball, right? So I'll be fine." Hermione stared into his eyes, searching for something. A curious tightness formed in Harry's throat. He looked away and coughed, trying to dislodge it. He missed Hermione's soft frown. "Look, just… don't forget to write, okay? That's why I'm sending you with Hedwig, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. She reached out and pulled Harry into a warm embrace. "I'll be back before you know it, nagging you to finish your holiday workload."

Harry snorted. "I can hardly wait," he deadpanned. He grimaced. "Although it's a faint hope that Moody'll let up now that I don't have you watching my back."

"I am sorry about that," Hermione giggled into his shoulder.

"Sure you are," Harry said with a chuckle. He released Hermione from his embrace. "Time to go," he said, gently pushing her towards the carriage.

With one last squeeze, Hermione turned and climbed into the carriage. Harry tried to ignore the burning in his eyes as the skeletal winged horses pulled away. He was glad that Hermione missed the single sob that escaped as he realized just how alone he felt.

Hermione frowned as the carriage left Harry behind. She had not.

…

"Do you understand what I have asked of you?" Voldemort said to Wormtail as he pressed a vial of potion into Peter's silver hand. "Did you obtain the item?" Peter nodded, pulling out a small envelope.

"Yes master, I do, but I do not understand…" he trailed off, realizing how much pain he was asking for by admitting his doubts.

Voldemort turned, his robes flowing majestically about him. The vials of blood and other items provided by his loyal follower at Hogwarts had worked wonderfully for the resurrection ritual on all hallows day, restoring him to the beauty of his youth. Wormtail cowered. "Of course you don't. There is good reason for my silence, reason which you of all people should understand."

"Master?" Peter asked, clueless.

"Surely you know that one must be ever… vigilant against the possibility of betrayal." Voldemort hissed.

"Master, I would never betray you!" Wormtail cried, cowering.

"Do you truly believe that you could conceal the Life Debt you feel you owe from me?" Voldemort asked.

"Master, I… I mean I would never let such a thing cause me to fail you!" Wormtail said in a blind panic.

"Perhaps," Voldemort said with finality. "Perhaps not. It is best not to risk such things, don't you agree?"

"I… I don't understand. I mean… if I did feel I owed the brat a Life Debt… I mean… ah…"

"Cease your dithering, Peter. If I were to punish you for such things, I would have done so." He smiled, and it was a horrific thing. "Do you think me so ignoble that I would forget your loyalty? That you gave of your own flesh to revive me? Have no worries, I will not be the reason your Debt is paid."

"Master?" Wormtail asked. "I thought you intended to slay Potter…"

Voldemort's smile widened. "No, Peter, by my hand the Boy-Who-Lived shall be vanquished. Young Harry… **he** shall live." He hissed in sinister laughter at the positively flummoxed look on Wormtail's face. "Ah, Peter, even your general cluelessness serves me, if only to lighten my spirits." His face hardened. "Now go, and prepare a warm Yuletide gift for the Grangers."

Wormtail nodded, preparing to scurry off.

"And Peter," Voldemort said with an undercurrent of whimsy. Wormtail braced for the pain. "Do remember to sign the card."

Nodding, Wormtail fled the Riddle Manor before his master could find reason to punish his hesitation.

…

Hermione hugged her parents tightly after she left the Hogwart's Express. Her father looked down on her, concerned at how desperately she clung to him. "Sweetheart?"

She looked up at her parents. "Mummy, Daddy? I… I need to tell you something," she whispered, staring in the direction of Hogwarts.

…

The Grangers were silent the entire drive back. They had a lot to ponder, and what their daughter told them made their blood run cold. The length of the journey didn't really register as they reached their home and somberly made their way to the door. Hermione's father unlocked the door, pulling it open. The last thing he ever saw was a handsome man with silver-blond hair pointing a wand at him. "Filthy muggles. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Feminine screams pierced the air before green light silenced them forever.


End file.
